But a light sprung up in Bridgette’s eyes and she said, “He has a thing for half-crazy damsels-in-distress. You know, the kind that put you in miserable situations as a sort of power play. He still hasn’t gotten over the last girl. She left our world before he figured out who she really was.”
Ouch. Was Bridgette calling Mickey out for still loving a dead girlfriend? The relationship drama just reached critical and I needed to bail.
“You need to leave,” Mickey said. His soft voice made my arms break out in goosebumps. “Now.”
Bridgette briefly closed her eyes. When she opened again, the heat in her gaze had drained away. “That was…I’m sorry.” She turned, walking back down the hallway.
I eyed Mickey, his face as unreadable as stone.
“I’m—"
“Kella, I can’t…” Mickey combed a hand through his hair, his lips still tight. He jabbed his thumb at the boy’s bathroom. “Give me a second, okay?”
He disappeared without waiting for a reply.
Chapter 6
One second turned into a few minutes. And even though I felt bad for Mickey—after all, his girlfriend died—the logical part of my brain reasoned that he’d gotten over it well enough to get a new girlfriend, break up, and be in a pseudo-relationship again. He probably wasn’t having a crisis right now. More likely, Bridgette had hit him below the belt and he was pissed.
I glanced up at the clock at the end of the hall. I only had a couple minutes to get to class before the bell rang. I bet that the other students had snagged all the good back row seats by now, and if I didn’t hurry, I’d get stuck front and center.
I sighed.
That decided it;I’d have to find class by myself—not that it was hard. The only thing that made me uneasy was the number of stares I got as I moved down the hallway. I’d always considered myself kinda cute, but the extra attention had nothing to do with attraction. After all, I was the only non-drop-dead gorgeous girl here.
When I got to room 115, I shoved open the door just as the bell rang.
And there stood my soulmate.
His gorgeously long, sandy hair tied back into a low ponytail, sky-blue eyes sparkling as he smiled at me. His white button-down shirt opened at the collar and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’d finished the look with a pair of slate-gray jeans and casual black shoes. No one could be any more perfect as he leaned against the teacher’s desk at the front of the room.
The teacher’s desk. His desk. The guy couldn’t be older than twenty-five, tops. But with the way he carried himself—the air of authority surrounding him—there was no mistaking who he was.
A tidal wave of rightness smashed into me, robbing me of all thought and filling me with a connection that seemed to snap into place like a rubber band. Age, such a shallow measuring stick, couldn’t be a factor in something so right that I felt it throughout my entire being—right?
My heart thumped in total and complete agreement.
His mouth quirked into an amused smile as it dawned on me that I was staring. I was pretty sure that my heavy makeup covered the flush that raced across my face, but I ducked my head just in case.
I mutely held out a slip of paper, my pulse hammering in my throat as his fingers skimmed mine. My gaze jerked up and his eyes captured it. I could happily drown in those blue pools.
“Kella,” he murmured, not even glancing down at the slip. “I’ve been expecting you.” I licked my lips. His voice sounded as sweet and dark as hot chocolate.
My chest thumped, threatening to explode as his eyes continued to drink in mine.
“I would like,” he said, his words as gentle as a caress. I leaned forward, balancing on the tips of my toes, eager to catch his next words.
Mickey chose that moment to burst through the classroom door and walk straight toward me, slinging a protective arm around my shoulders.
My soulmate-teacher leaned back on his heels. Until then, I hadn’t realized he’d been leaning into me, too.
A look of something like embarrassment flashed across his face as Mickey bent his head to whisper into my ear, “You’re not very good at waiting, are you?”
To the teacher, he said, “Mr. O’Faolain. This is Kella.” His stare bored into O’Faolain’s eyes. “She’s my new foster sister. Pretty much my only family.”
If anything could have poured ice water on this magical moment between us, it was Mickey pretending to be my overprotective brother. Pretending to be Caleb. I elbowed him in the ribs. His lack of reaction wasn’t very satisfying, but thought I got the message across: shut up.
Mickey kept his arm wrapped around my shoulder, but I shrugged it off. Caleb never got away with the whole protective older sibling stuff, so I sure as hell wasn’t about to let my foster brother get all protective on me.
And what was Mickey’s problem? He’d announced to the whole school that I was the newest foster kid while also marking me like a dog peeing on a fire hydrant. Yeah, he was my foster brother, but we were on, what, day three of knowing each other?
“Mickey,” O’Faolain said. “I was just telling Kella how pleased we are to have her in our class.” Warmth rushed through me, tingling down my arms and legs.
Mickey bared his teeth in something that kind of resembled a smile. But before he said something else embarrassing, I shifted just enough to elbow him in the ribs again with no one the wiser.
But from the twinkle in my soulmate’s eyes, he might have caught the movement.
“Would you two like to sit together?” He gestured at two desks in the center of the classroom.
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Mickey said at the same time.
“Well, those are the only seats left.” O’Faolain’s smile was apologetic. “We do not have assigned seats, but if you get
